


It's Beginning To Get To Me

by aromanticjungkook (missbutterfly)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbutterfly/pseuds/aromanticjungkook
Summary: “Time to stop bad brain,” Yuzu says with a gentle smile. He steps out of Javi’s hold and reaches down with both hands to tug at the bottom of Javi’s shirt, “Off.”





	It's Beginning To Get To Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written anything even vaguely substantial since 2014 so I'm sorry if it isn't up to snuff aaaa (super shout out to [karelyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karelyss/pseuds/karelyss) for giving me the courage to post this!!)

Javi is having a bad day. Bad days are a part of life, but when you’re an elite athlete desperately training to be able to cling to podium positions for as long as possible, bad days seem like a boulder tumbling down over all of your progress. 

 

That’s exactly what today feels like for Javi. Every popped jump and hard fall feels like the universe slowly unpicking everything he’s done to get to that point. He’s the oldest of Brian’s students, a veteran of the sport, and it’s beginning to feel like he needs to try twice as hard to be half as good as all the younger skaters zipping around the ice, tackling the big jumps with ease. 

 

Logically, Javi knows this isn’t true. Despite his age he’s at the top of his game. He’s a two-time world champion and a five-time european champion; he knows he’s good. One of the best skaters in the world even. But, well, lately Javi has started to feel his age. 

 

Missing the podium at Worlds stung. He’s been trying to keep it out of his mind but the disappointment is lingering. If only he’d done it differently, if only he’d skated like he knows he can, if only-if only-if only. All it left him with was anxiety leading into the Olympic season. What if that happens again? What if he lands himself in 4th because of some stupid mistake? He remembers Sochi. The immediate crushing despair of missing the Olympic podium is not something he ever wants to experience again. This is his final chance. 

 

With that in mind, he sets up his next jump. He knows as soon as his blades leave the ice that the landing isn’t going to be pretty; too much tension in his upper body throws him off his axis. He lands with a harsh thud and a pained gasp, his hip slamming onto the surface of the ice. Shame-faced and angry he lays there for a minute, trying to catch his breath. 

 

Useless. It’s all fucking useless.

 

Eventually, Javi heaves himself up. He can feel the damp seeping through his training pants, it's uncomfortable and irritating because it means he’s fallen again. All the pressure from the day builds up inside. He slams his fists against the ice, suddenly hating the very sight of it.

 

He has to be better than this. He  _ is _ better than this. He knows his choreography. He can do the jumps. But nothing is meshing in his mind. It’s all a jumbled, clouded mess that doesn’t make any sense to him anymore. 

 

The loud scrape of blades cuts through his thoughts. He doesn’t need to look up to know its Yuzu, he’d recognise those skates and tight leggings anywhere. Honestly, he doesn’t really want to see Yuzu right now. They usually tease each other after a fall and while Javi knows deep down Yuzu wouldn’t make a joke while Javi is struggling as obviously as he is, he can’t bear the thought of the japanese skater’s cocky smile.

 

There’s no laughter. Instead, a gloved hand invades his vision, Yuzu waiting patiently for him to take it. 

 

Javi wants to bat it away, prove that he can get up himself, that he doesn’t need anyone to carry him through practices - to carry him through the season. But Javi is so tired, his body is aching, his head hurts and all of a sudden it feels too hard to even keep himself sitting upright.

 

The fingers in front of him wiggle slightly, Yuzu obviously trying to get his attention without being too invasive.  Something about the action is so endearing and uncharacteristic of how Yuzu’s usually acts that it eases the tension in his jaw.  He takes Yuzu’s hand and hauls himself up. He stumbles as he gets to his feet, his body feeling far too heavy for his legs to carry. 

 

Javi immediately feels bad for even entertaining the idea that Yuzu would make fun of him as soon as he sees his face. There are tense lines of worry around Yuzu’s eyes as the other skater sweeps his gaze frantically over Javi’s face, trying to gauge his expression.

 

“Javi okay?” Yuzu asks softly.

 

Javi doesn’t have it in him to lie. “Not today.” He manages a smile but its tired and bitter. “Just having one of those practices.”

 

Yuzu nods slightly, “Bad jumps, bad falls.”

 

“Got it in one.”

 

“You are good jumper, just having a bad brain.” Yuzu reaches out and taps a finger against Javi’s temple. Something proud and cruel in him wants to cringe away from the touch but he doesn’t. It’s not Yuzu’s fault he’s annoyed. He shrugs instead.

 

“True, but there’s no cure for a shitty brain so... “ 

 

“Should not jump when having a bad brain,” Yuzu says, his tone slightly sharper than it was previously. “You only fall. Even more bad for brain. Keeps going until you angry and get hurt.”

 

As if Javi doesn’t already know that. It’s  _ his _ brain;  _ his _ anxiety that’s acting up. He knows his anxiety better than anyone, he’s been skating with it his whole damn life. Just like he knows he isn’t going to be making any progress today. He doesn’t need Saint Hanyu over here telling him what to do about his thoughts, especially when Yuzu doesn’t even follow his own advice. 

 

All of a sudden the frustration builds back up, Javi’s anger swift and cutting. “You’re one to talk, you’re always pushing yourself too hard.”

 

Yuzu shakes his head. “Not for Olympic season.”

 

“Oh yeah? How’s your knee?”

 

It was a low blow, Javi knows. Yuzu has been worrying about his knee everyday. It’s not always noticeable but Javi can see it in the way he’ll occasionally shake his leg out after he lands a jump, a slight twist pulling at his lips. He has been careful with it, but it’s been playing on his mind. Being injured during the Olympic season is an athlete’s worst nightmare, and Yuzu has more bad luck than others when it comes to injuries. Considering his thirst to defend his gold medal title to bring up his knee was probably uncalled for, but Javi is beyond caring today.

 

Any remaining warmth fades from Yuzu’s eyes, a visible tick appearing at his jawline. 

 

“Fine. Jump bad. Fall. Don’t care anymore.” With that he skates away, throwing himself into a triple axel. The entry is too slow and he has to fight to land it but he lands it all the same, facing Javi with a satisfied glower and a challenging twitch of his eyebrows.

 

Spiteful brat.

 

Later, sitting alone in his apartment, Javi admits to himself that there was no need to snap like he did. Yuzu was only trying to give him advice, albeit in that too blunt and stilted way Javi should be used to by now. If Javi could speak japanese he knows it would be different. He’s read the interviews - Yuzu has a way with words - it’s just the limitations of his english that force him to speak as straightforwardly as possible. Javi has been there himself. But with how badly his practice session went, Javi knows that no matter what Yuzu had of said he would have taken it badly.

 

Even Brian’s gentle questions when Javi had finally given up and gone to start his cool down had rubbed him the wrong way. Javi had been so short with his answers that Brian gave up quickly, walking off with his lips pursed in that way that means Javi isn’t going to be jumping tomorrow. Which, while irritating, is probably good considering how much his hip is twinging.

 

He snorts to himself; bad brain indeed.

 

Javi shifts to grab his phone, careful not to jostle the ice packs on his calves. He opens his messaging app and sighs. Tomorrow he’ll apologise to Brian, but right now he has to sort everything out with Yuzu. 

 

He smiles slightly when he sees the dumb emoticon Yuzu saved next to his name. The guilt rushes back quickly. 

 

Time to pull his head out of his ass.

 

**Me:** Hey, sorry for snapping at you today 

**Me:** I was being an asshole

 

Yuzu must have been on his phone because the typing bubble pops up almost immediately. Javi braces himself.

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : You need to stop being angry at everyone when you are angry at yourself

 

**Me:** Ok I deserved that

  
  


**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Yes

 

**Me:** I’m sorry

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : I’ll forgive you

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Maybe

 

**Me:** Do I have to beg? :’(

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Hmmmm

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : I’ll be nice to Javi today since practice was bad

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : So bad

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Very very bad

 

**Me:** I get it!

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Hehe! I forgive you (ゝ◡╹)ノ♡

 

**Me:** Thanks haha :)

**Me:** Did you finish practice okay?

 

 **Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Not great

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : I have to help my knee more

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Do less jumps

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Brain got mad today 

 

**Me:** Yeah he’s mad at me too

**Me:** Looks like we’re both in the dog house

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Dogs?

 

**Me:** It’s just an expression

**Me:** Tracy says it a lot

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : (￣■￣;)!?

 

Javi smiles fondly at the emoticon. He has no idea what it means - what most of them mean - and he’s mentioned it to Yuzu before. He’d merely beamed and quickly explained that he thought they were cute. It took Javi a while to get used to them but now he associates them so much with Yuzu that the very sight of them makes him just a little bit happier.

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Do you feel better?

 

He has to think about that for a minute. Does he feel better? No. Not particularly; less frustrated perhaps, but the anxious throbbing in his stomach hasn’t lessened any. 

 

Javi wants to lie. Yuzu has enough on his plate without needing to worry about Javi as well, which is exactly what he’ll do. Despite Yuzu’s incredible mental strength he’s a worrier by nature, particularly when it comes to members of their club. Once, when Tracy had turned up for work with a cold, Yuzu had wasted ten minutes of his training time fetching her a hot tea with honey. She’d accepted it with a mildly exasperated smile and told him to get to work, but the smile had lingered throughout the entire session, his concern for her clearly touching. Yuzu has that effect on people. 

 

It would be easy to assure Yuzu he was fine and then turn his phone off. However, he knows all that would be waiting for him after that would be a night of tossing and turning, unable to sleep properly until he gets a good couple of hours of practice behind him. Yuzu was right earlier, it’s just going to get worse and worse until Javi makes a mess of himself.

 

While he’s considering it, his phone buzzes several times in his hands.

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Javi

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Javvviiiii

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : ??????????

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : You are not ok?

 

**Me:** No, not today

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Do you need me?

 

Warmth builds in Javi’s stomach and he takes a breath. Holds it. Slowly lets it out.

 

**Me:** Yes

**Me:** Please

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : Ok

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : I be there soon 

 

**Me:** See you soon x

 

**Yuzu ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜** : (〃▽〃)

  
  
  


***

It takes Javi a little while to pull himself off the couch. He uses the sudden burst of nervous energy to tidy around his apartment. While Yuzu isn’t often phased by messes that aren’t his own, Javi needs something to do with his hands, plus it’s only polite. 

 

Effie weaves her way through his legs as he goes, maybe trying to provide comfort in her own way, though it’s most likely because he’s near her food cupboard. He chucks her a treat either way.

 

Just as Javi finishes loading the dishwasher a knock sounds from the front door. He sighs as he makes his way over to let Yuzu in, tense hands twitching as he fumbles with the door handle.

 

Yuzu’s face is soft as it comes into view, the anger he expressed during practice clearly long gone as his eyes take in Javi’s slumped shoulders. He walks past Javi into the apartment with quick steps, dumping his overnight bag near the couch, then he looks around. At least Javi has nothing to be worry about there; his tidying paid off because all Yuzu really takes notice of is Effie lingering by the kitchen doorway. Yuzu has always adored Effie and thankfully the feeling is returned. He tends to keep his distance because of his asthma but he has expressed his love for Javi’s cat on several occasions. It seems stupid to Javi, but seeing Yuzu make ridiculous kissy noises at his cat in an attempt to lure her closer, wearing comfortable clothes and clearly at ease in his home makes Javi’s stomach clench slightly. It's a perfectly put-together image of all of Javi’s comforts and suddenly he needs that. He needs Yuzu as close as possible.

 

Javi makes it to Yuzu in a few long strides. He yelps quietly as Javi all but tackles him into a hug but automatically wraps his arms around Javi’s neck. Maybe it's the immediate shudder that wracks through Javi’s frame, the usually strong set of his shoulders seeming oddly fragile, or maybe it's the way Javi huffs desperately against the sensitive skin of his neck, but something clicks within Yuzu. He gathers Javi as close as possible, the two men pressed together down the entire length of their bodies, Yuzu’s fingertips digging intently into the tension ticking down Javi’s spine.

 

Javi melts against him.

 

They stand like that for a while, swaying gently back and forth, hands pressing, craving, grasping at each other, Javi’s weak pants brushing underneath Yuzu’s ear, Yuzu’s nose settled against Javi’s temple.

 

It’s instantly grounding and exactly what Javi has needed all day, all week even. Suddenly, here in his apartment, wrapped up in Yuzu’s warmth, his scent, every popped jump and painful landing feels like they were years ago; locked away tight where they can’t weigh on him anymore. All there is is warmth. No Brian, no Tracy - none of their fierce yet loving concern. No expectations. No competitions. No fucking Olympics. 

 

“It’s okay,” Yuzu murmurs quietly against his cheekbone. “Javi will be okay.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I do. I’m very smart.”

 

Javi huffs out a laugh against Yuzu’s skin, feels him shiver. “Yeah, I should know better than to go against the almighty Yuzu and his calculations.” 

 

“You learning.” Javi can feel the smile pressed against his cheek.

 

“I am… but,” he moves his arms from around Yuzu’s back, strokes his hands down to that tiny waist and grips Yuzu’s shirt tightly. He takes a step back. Yuzu’s eyes are dark and shining like the always are. 

 

“But?”

 

“But what if this is it for me-”

 

Yuzu cuts in before Javi can even finish. “Javi not done yet.”

 

“You saw my free at worlds right?” Javi asks, just this side of bitter.

 

“Yes,” Yuzu answers. He nods briefly, “Was not good.”

 

“See.”

 

“But Javi-your short was amazing.”

 

“Yeah it was. But that was without the pressure. The second I was under pressure I crumbled quicker than-than,” Javi fumbles slightly for an appropriate analogy. “Than a cake.”

 

It earns him a snort. “Cake?”

 

“Yeah. A really dry, shitty, free skating cake.”

 

Yuzu tilts his head with narrowed eyes, “You talk like 192 is very bad score.”

 

Javi chooses to bypass the fact that Yuzu remembers the exact numbers. “Would you be happy with 192?” He doesn’t need an answer from Yuzu, his cringe says it all.

 

“I know when I’m at my best I’m good. But my best seems so fucking far away right now.” Javi sighs and dips forward so his forehead rests gently against Yuzu’s. The younger’s eyes close over in contentment. Javi continues, softer, resigned, “You shine on the ice. Even if you’re having a crappy practice, everyone knows you should be there. Sometimes it feels like I’m out of my depth out there, competing against you and the new little skaters.”

 

Javi knows he sounds a bit pathetic, but he can’t help feeling sorry for himself. 

 

He’s half expecting a flick to the temple and a sharp telling off from Yuzu for talking down about himself but nothing like that comes. Instead Yuzu lifts his forehead away from Javi’s. The distance between them springs a sudden ache deep in Javi’s chest and it takes everything in him to not press closer.

 

Yuzu’s hands settle on top of Javi’s on his waist and gently pry away the tight grip Javi has on his shirt. He interlocks their fingers with a slow slide of their palms, and starts pulling Javi over to the door in the corner. The bedroom.

 

A burst of warmth blooms in Javi’s stomach when he realises Yuzu’s intention. It was something they had figured out a long time ago; what they both needed when everything became too much, when it felt like their skin was bubbling with underlying frustration. 

  
  


***

  
  


It started in Sochi. 

 

Javi and Yuzu, deeply exhausted but so full of tension from the difficult season, needed an outlet. Yuzu, still riding the high of winning and the fierce disappointment of his free skate, had practically crashed into Javi’s room. Unable to sit still he’d paced around in the space between the beds, hands fidgeting and talking a mile a minute in a complex mix of japanese and english that was almost entirely intelligible. Javi had quickly grown tired of it. With an irritated sigh, Javi had grabbed one of Yuzu’s frantically twitching arms and used it to pull his body down onto the bed. Not expecting the movement, Yuzu had immediately started struggling. It took Javi securing his arms tightly around Yuzu’s waist for him to pause momentarily, but it was enough to guide Yuzu’s face into the crook of his neck. 

 

The boy’s flushed cheeks were burning hot against Javi’s skin. The way he trembled against Javi sparked a pang of worry that Yuzu might start crying but Yuzu gradually began to relax, started to rest his weight against Javi’s chest. It had taken a couple of minutes to adjust, to find the correct tangle of limbs, to find the perfect position for their hands to settle; Yuzu tapping out the beating of Javi’s heart over his sternum, Javi gently caressing the back of Yuzu’s head. Then Javi had pressed his lips to Yuzu’s forehead, humming a gentle tune against the soft skin around his hairline. With a shiver, Yuzu went boneless against him.

 

They had fallen asleep like that, curled together. There were no words exchanged when they woke early the next morning. The pale sunlight cast an ethereal glow over the room, everything had seemed soft around the edges, almost dreamlike. The slow curve of Yuzu’s smile as he saw himself out was the calmest expression Javi had seen on him in a while.

 

They didn’t talk about it.

 

It wasn’t purposeful, there just never seemed to be any time. After Sochi there was worlds, and then they were both home for the summer, which is what ended up being the breaking point. The comforts of home after the disappointment of Javi’s Olympics season were a soothing balm over the irritation under his skin, and then they were gone again. 

 

Javi had thrown himself into training with an intensity he’d never really expressed before. The grand prix final was to be held in Barcelona that year and he was determined to get there, to show his country that figure skating was something to be proud of. That  _ he _ was something to be proud of.

 

It took Yuzu finding him in the locker room with the heels of his palms pressed tightly against his eyes for Javi to realise he was quickly burning himself out. Yuzu had gently pulled his hands away and cupped his jaw with a touch so delicate Javi could barely register it. He pulled Javi closer and pressed a featherlight kiss to the hairline above his temple, then moved back with a shy smile, still holding onto Javi as if he were something precious.

 

After a beat, Javi blurted, “You hate kisses.” Or at least Javi had noticed how often Yuzu politely dodged kisses on the face from strangers. Not that Javi was a stranger, still, it was unusual coming from Yuzu.

 

The puzzled look Yuzu gave him was enough for Javi to flush at his outburst, “But Javi likes them.” 

 

And that was that.

 

Except it wasn’t. Not really. 

 

They don’t talk about it.

  
  


***

 

The rush under Javi’s skin intensifies as they enter his bedroom. Yuzu is still holding his hand, maneuvering them both into the room. Javi can’t seem to stop looking at him, at the proud line of his neck and the way his mouth is pinched with concern - the tiny divot in his chin. He wants to reach out and smooth his thumb against sensitive skin around the scar there. 

 

Javi wants a lot of things.

 

“Javi?” Yuzu asks, gently, finally looking back at him. 

 

He can’t think of anything to say so he stays quiet. His face mustn’t give anything away because Yuzu doesn’t push for an answer and turns back to what he was doing, which Javi realises, was to fiddle with the bedsheets. He’s already pulled back the quilt. He flicks it strategically by the corner to fling the only two decorative cushions Javi has off the bed. It’s a strangely impolite gesture for Yuzu who - knowing they were a housewarming gift from Javi’s mother - would usually place both cushions neatly on top of the dresser, but Javi still hasn’t let go of his hand. They’re clasped so tightly Javi’s knuckles are stark white against his tanned skin. 

 

For some reason it’s embarrassing, like his hands are betraying how much he needs this; how much need needs to be comforted, to be touched. 

 

It’s always been about touch with Javi. Hugging his family and friends, firm hands against his jaw and neck, a thumb against his cheek, fingers running through his hair. The warm press of someone else’s skin against his own is something he craves, something instantly calming. Kisses are precious to Javi, no matter how small.

 

For Yuzu it’s different. For Yuzu, touch is something intensely personal; hugs aren’t prolonged, kisses are leant away from, hand-holding is often brief and loosely grasped. Even now, even though it’s his new favourite game to see how many people he can make want to touch him, he rarely lets anyone linger long enough.

 

Javi has always been the exception. Ever since Yuzu strode into the Cricket Club for the first time polite as could be, barely able to understand basic instructions. Ever since Javi had held out that first helping hand after Yuzu tumbled to the ice in front of him, eyes warm. Ever since Brian gently suggested Javi take Yuzu out after one of their first practises together. Ever since Javi pulled Yuzu onto the bed with him in Sochi. Ever since Yuzu pressed that damn kiss against his forehead. 

 

Watching Yuzu now, leading him around the room by his hand, meticulously going through all the tiny steps he thinks he needs to do to help comfort Javi makes his chest ache.

 

Bed finally arranged to Yuzu’s standards, he turns back to Javi. Their hands finally separate and it leaves Javi’s palm cold. Thankfully he doesn’t get a chance to think about it because Yuzu is quickly close again, their noses almost touching. His hands come up and he links his fingers loosely around Javi’s nape, thumbs briefly stroking at the short hairs there. Javi’s hands settle naturally against Yuzu’s waist again. He’d joked before that Yuzu’s waist was made to be held; though whether its gravitational pull was designed by God or the Devil he wasn’t sure. Yuzu had only replied with a wink and walked off with an exaggerated sway of his hips that startled a laugh out of Javi.

 

He wants to get closer again, mold himself to the delicate curves of Yuzu’s body but before he can act on it Yuzu’s hand breaches his vision and a warm palm rests against his forehead.

 

“Time to stop bad brain,” Yuzu says with a gentle smile. He steps out of Javi’s hold and reaches down with both hands to tug at the bottom of Javi’s shirt, “Off.”

 

Javi obliges, quickly slipping his shirt over his head. He lets it drop in a messy pile by his feet and Yuzu tuts in disapproval, reaching down to pick it up. He takes Javi’s shirt, folds it up and drops it neatly on top of the dresser. Yuzu swiftly pulls off his own shirt before placing it next to Javi’s. A few tufts of his hair are poking straight up haphazardly and a gentle warmth spreads throughout Javi’s veins at the sight. The need to touch him - to smooth down the errant stands and stroke a thumb across his cheek - is a familiar, deep-seated ache.

 

Thankfully, this is the easy bit. Wanting to hold Yuzu; being able to, knowing how. 

 

Finally taking his eyes off Yuzu, Javi makes his way over to the bed and flops over onto it face first.

 

The last time they had done this was in Helsinki. Javi, bitterly disappointed in his own performance, had been unable to relax. Everything about his hotel room made his skin itch, the shudders crawling down his spine impossible to ignore. It wasn’t until Yuzu had turned up, knowing he’d be needed, that Javi managed to calm down. Yuzu had settled against his back then, and tucked his nose against Javi’s jaw. Immediately, the hypersensitivity faded into a calm warmth, every point of contact between their skin balancing out Javi’s anxiety.

 

The bed dips next to him and Javi feels fingers slide through his hair. Yuzu ruffles the short curls and, scratches his nails lightly over Javi’s scalp and then flicks his cheek when Javi closes his eyes over in contentment. 

 

“Back or front?” he asks.

 

Javi considers for a second before rolling over and reaching for Yuzu - sitting on his knees, waiting patiently - and pulling him against his chest. This is a familiar dance by now, knowing how their bodies fit together, where to settle comfortably. Sometimes if Javi wants Yuzu draped across his back, or if Yuzu wants to lie side-by-side, their bodies curled tightly together, it takes some negotiation. But the weight of Yuzu on his chest, the slightly chilled press of his nose against Javi’s collarbone and the gentle sweep of his fingertips down his ribs is almost instinctual in the way it calms his racing thoughts.

 

“Javi?” 

 

Javi hums in response.

 

“Tomorrow will be better.” He says it with such quiet confidence that Javi can do nothing except believe him. 

 

“Hey,” Javi starts, hesitant. Yuzu lifts up slightly to look at him. “I’m sorry for today.” 

 

“I know.” His eyes are so warm that Javi’s chest pinches slightly. He leans down to brush his nose against Javi’s and smiles when Javi huffs out a quiet laugh. “Tomorrow  _ you _ will be better.”

 

It sounds like a challenge but it isn’t, not really; it's the truth. Yuzu is right, they both know it, and Yuzu very politely tries to not look smug as he settles back on Javi’s chest.

 

Tomorrow, Javi will pull his neck in and apologise to Brian as necessary. He’ll have breakfast, walk into practice with a positive attitude and do a clean run-through. He’ll hear the pride in Brian’s voice as he rings the bell at the side of the rink, listen to Yuzu and Gabby’s excited applause and revel in the satisfaction it will bring.

 

Tomorrow will be a good day.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this wow


End file.
